Chapter 2 - Embers
Author's Note: It's been a while, and for that I apologize. Most of this chapter was written and ready to go back in March of 2020 but as we all know, that was when COVID took off in the US. This is also around the time when I was in a car accident. Since then, a lot of my time has been taken up with work and taking care of my wife. Been a lot of close calls, both COVID-related and not. I'm hoping to return to this now that my wife and I are fully vaccinated and our lives have largely returned to pre-COVID normalcy.
The plan, for now, is to do three to four chapters in an arc, one arc in the past covering how parts of the group came together, and then an arc covering more modern battles and situations. If I just wrote it all chronologically, we'd have anywhere from twelve to twenty-four before we even got to assembling the team and training, to say nothing of getting to Ragnarok. I think this way there will be a better balance between the characters and the action.
For now, enjoy the continued story of the men and women that'll come together to take on the mantle of Pantheon.
Mount Olympus - United States of America
2/24/17 - 1745 Local Time
"I still do not understand why you insist on trying your absolute hardest to destroy literally everything within swinging distance of your hammer," Irisha Artamonova sat at the table in the chow hall, one hand wrapped around a bottle of water while she spoke with Leo. She was classically beautiful, with dark brown eyes, a straight Nubian nose, high cheekbones, and thin lips that seemed to rest in a faint, amused beam. "I know that ATHENA said you were responsible for the squad when collateral damage isn't a concern, but do you have to be so total in annihilating everything and the kitchen sink?"
It was more accurate to say that she was speaking at Leo, as the man was hunched over practically shoveling food into his mouth as she spoke. Of the four of them, he had exerted himself the hardest and his body was desperate to regain some manner of energy. Although none would say that Leo was ugly, next to Irisha there was an edge of roughness that was impossible to miss. With a strong, square jaw, an equally strong roman nose, and a dark line of scruff trailing along his jawline, he looked every bit the military lifer he was.
Beside him, Konstantin Matveyev cast a glance at the ravenous soldier and chuckled, rolling his thick neck a few times before an unsettlingly loud crack forced a deeply satisfied groan from his barrel chest. "I told you he would not be good for conversation after training." His warm, heavily accented bass vibrated with obvious amusement as he turned back to Irisha, switching to their shared native tongue. "[Two months later, and I do not think I will ever get used to seeing how much you Dynamo put away after a heavy psi-day]."
Irisha opened her mouth to comment but was interrupted by the arrival of Arend Veldpape, the man whose missions would be most opposite to Leo's scorched earth tactics. The Swedish man set down a tray laden with food, though not nearly to the degree of what Leo's tray had been subjected to. "I see ARES is busy eating the base out of house and home," Arend said with a well-worn grin that only grew wider at the expressive digit that was the sum of Leo's response. Shorter though he was than most of the team, Arend never failed to elicit a degree of almost fatherly deference and respect when he spoke.
"Well, overall I'd say the exercise went well. ATHENA sent down the analysis of the fight." He set a tablet down onto the table for review, though he had clearly already read through it as he turned his attention to the others at the table. "ARES and ZEUS both displayed marked improvements in battlefield stamina and performance times as compared to our benchmark two weeks ago, while HESTIA and I showed similar improvements to shield reaction time and durability."
Leo grabbed the tablet and was scrolling through it with one hand while he continued to eat. Konstantin gave a few quick cursory glances over the American's shoulder before looking back at Arend. "While there is no denying that there were areas we could improve, I cannot help but wonder what it is exactly that ATHENA has planned." Out of all the Pantheon members, he had quickly garnered a reputation for his extreme caution and pessimism. "She does not strike me as the type of woman to simply repeat things as a means of training."
"We were already exceptional when we were recruited, but ATHENA has been pushing for more. She put together new training programs with input from XCOM and the Ethereal Aegis." That note made everyone else at the table stop and look at each other before turning their full attention to the older Swede. "The benchmark was simply to see where we stood. This second test was to see how quickly we could be pushed beyond what ADVENT's PRIEST training put us through, with nothing else beyond the ideas and theories in ADVENT and this unit." Arend paused and took a drink from his bottle and made a face. They were all well-acquainted with the nutritionally dense, and almost violently flavorful, drinks that they had to consume daily to keep their energy levels up.
"Now, they want to see how well we can adapt when we have guidance from the experts. Aegis put together tailored training plans for the Aegii and Telepath psions, along with some… earlier notes from Patricia." There was clear distaste in Amends' voice as he spoke, something mirrored in all their faces before he continued. That particular revelation had universally been taken as a direct insult to every member of Pantheon, and every one of them was keen to distance themselves from anything having an association with that traitor. "XCOM had their most experienced Dynamo psions put something together for the Destructive Duo there, and I'm told that ATHENA and the Commander of XCOM both gave clear instructions not to hold anything back in making the regimens."
"Amend," Irisha said as the Swedish man began to tear into his own food. "If your goal was to sound ominous, then I'd say you succeeded. But even so, why bother?" Already they had been subjected to intense physical and psionic training well beyond what they had endured within the PRIEST program and their various home military programs. It was not arrogance to say that they were among the absolute strongest, most dangerous humans on the planet by now.
"Because compared to what we're about to endure, we've been playing in the sandbox." Leo finally finished gorging himself and took the opportunity to speak, a faint grin on his face that did not quite reach his eyes. "Get a look at what this Mona Eriksson put together for you and me." He handed her the tablet while reciting what was on it aloud for the benefit of the others.
"According to her, we're going to be holding open multiple rifts while doing calisthenics, sustaining psionic attacks on multiple targets while performing target practice; basically she has us using our psionics all the time, except when we're asleep. She even set aside time for twice-daily medical checkups." Even through the faint outline of hexagons running over his arms, there was no missing the scars that had begun to develop through extensive use of the corrosive Dynamo psionics.
"That can't be healthy for us. With everything else ATHENA and ADVENT have us doing, when are we going to sleep?"
"That's part of the Telepath's training. Apparently, someone in XCOM figured out how to keep someone mentally awake and alert for extended periods of time by… transferring their tiredness to nearby enemies?" Leo sounded unconvinced and unsure as he finished off the rest of the food, waving vaguely in the air with half a biscuit before consuming it. "Don't ask me how that works, I'm not a Telepath. I just know that they're supposed to keep the rest of us awake and alert for as long as they can."
"What about the Telekinetics?" Konstantin asked as he finished looking over the document. Irisha figured their training was going to be equally painful, judging from the grim lines on Amend's face as he was reading. The Swede was not a man who was easily startled or prone to overt displays of concern, so to see him looking rather intent was a clear sign of just what they were to be put through.
Leo, however, just laughed. "Oh yeah. Turns out their training was written by Caelior."
There was silence for several seconds before Irisha ventured to ask what they were all thinking. "... the Ethereal Caelior? The one who threw an aircraft carrier into downtown Tokyo?"
"That's XCOM for ya."
Marysville, Washington
8/1/16 - 1156 Local Time
The staccato burst of gauss weapons and dull whump of grenades going off had become the morose anthem of Checkpoint Charlie. As the sun continued to rise into the clear azure sky, although the temperature was mild and the breeze gentle, there was no comfort to be found in the open air.
At one point, the town center might have had a quaint charm to it; with its small grocery stores and restaurants mingling with cultural shops and small houses, there was a quiet air of tranquility that had once filled the area. Now, as Leo looked around at the ugly concrete bunkers and barricades, there was no sense of home or relaxation to find.
Many of the larger buildings had caught fire under the hail of plasma and explosives. All down the road chunks of asphalt had been vaporized and sundered, leaving a cracked and pot-marked surface that made crossing it hellishly difficult, even without the barrage of back-and-forth fire.
"Hana says we've got another ten minutes to rest up before we're headed out," Corey said as he ducked into a tent and spotted Leo. Like most of the items around the camp, the tent had been borrowed from one of the nearby storefronts to give the soldiers of ADVENT some cover and a sense of safety amidst the ongoing battle. He glanced at the figure lying next to Leo with a complicated look before sighing and running a hand through his cropped blond hair "No bullshit. How's Ricky doing?"
Ricardo Cortez and the rest of the squad had been on a clearing patrol, pushing back the Collective elements from the checkpoint that had pushed too far ahead of their army, when an Andromedon ambush caught them off-guard. It had been thanks to his quick action that no one else had been hurt. Unfortunately for the Hispanic man, Andromedon acid was far-reaching and quite fast-acting. Even with quick action from their medic, he had been unconscious within seconds.
"If he were awake, he'd probably be screaming. If he could manage to," Leo said grimly. "Spoke to one of the triage medics. Said he's probably got a comminuted fracture in his left arm. They're worried about him developing compartment syndrome in it if the pressure isn't relieved soon. Acid damage across his chest, neck, and most of the left side of his face. They said that from the sounds of his breathing, they think he might have chemical burns throughout his upper and lower respiratory system, maybe fluid building up on the lungs, but without any scanning equipment..." He trailed off for a moment, concern evident across his features.
A look of rage flashed across his face, followed quickly by guilt, an ugly combination Corey was only all-too-familiar with. . "Why the fuck did he have to take his helmet off?"
"If it's that bad, why is he still here?" There was clear heat and agitation in Corey's voice, even as he settled back against a stack of crates and gave a resigned sigh. Suspecting the answer,
Corey nevertheless felt compelled to ask, "Did no one call for CASEVAC?"
"They tried," Leo said with a helpless shrug, scratching at the stubble of a beard growing out. "Best I can figure, the Collective has control of the skies now. I haven't seen any allied aircraft in the air for more than two hours, and I heard Hana say that the clearing patrols weren't receiving any further close air support even before we set out."
On his cot, Ricardo stirred briefly and groaned in obvious pain before he settled back down. "They've got him sedated as best they can manage. All the vehicles ADVENT has nearby are being used for more critical needs; transport, resupply. Guess he gets to take a nap while we play cowboys and aliens," Leo expressed with more than a little forced levity in his voice.
After a few moments, Corey pushed away from the crates and nodded towards the tent flap. "Come on. Let's get some air. Sung said she'd hang back and keep watch with him."
Leo didn't respond for several long seconds before he stood up. With one last look at a man whom he had joked with, trained with, and now fought beside over the last several weeks, Leo snapped his helmet back into place and followed Corey out of the tent. The camp that had been set up, one of dozens around the city, was largely deserted; most of the soldiers were either out on patrols or fortifying and repairing what territory ADVENT held.
"XCOM withdrew." The flatness with which Leo uttered those words was unsettling, like hearing a man saying he had no concern over his house burning down with his family inside.
Corey glanced over at the other man, most of his face obscured by the red and black plates of the helmet. "They pulled out? Why?"
"Not sure. Reports say there was some kind of situation down south of Seattle. XCOM had control of the battlefield thanks to that psion of theirs, Patricia Trask." Corey grunted an acknowledgment, so Leo continued as they crossed one of the many ADVENT checkpoints. "Well, apparently the Mutons there went nuts and started attacking everyone; humans, Andromedon, other Mutons. They just went wild. Without her controlling the aliens, the fight turned into a bloodbath. We held out, but XCOM extracted their soldiers."
Corey let his mind run over the possibilities briefly. XCOM didn't gain the sort of reputation for defiant, some might say suicidal, drive to resist the aliens wherever they went and tuck tail after things got bloody. Hamburg certainly gave that impression, but New York had cemented it. If there was a fight to be had with the aliens, XCOM was going to be there. If they opted to withdraw… "It could be that they decided to pull back to figure out whatever trick led to the Mutons going crazy. ADVENT clearly was in a good spot, we held the line. We keep holding, XCOM has time to investigate and counter whatever the aliens come up with."
Leo didn't respond immediately, and the silence stretched out between them. It wasn't a comfortable silence, a great deal of resentment and agitation wound up under their every movement. Being a little older still than Leo, Corey struggled with what to do or say to help; if he said nothing, it seemed likely that the hate would keep building until something snapped, and nothing was worse than a special forces-type snapping. But there were times when that hate was useful, and there certainly wasn't a lack of available targets to vent that hate onto.
It was an eerie thing, to see a man shut down the parts of him that were there to make him human. But as Corey watched Leo, even obscured as they were by the helmets, there was no mistaking the signs. They were little things, subtle and easily missed if they weren't something one knew to look for. But the way his gait changed, his shoulders squared up, the muscles in his face shifted...
Corey knew well the dark things that special forces were sometimes called on to do. Some could not cope and would wash out or worse, and then some learned how to accept the realities of their profession. Corey was of the school that you had to balance the good and the bad. He went to church, spent time with his wife and daughter, and helped out in the community.
How Leo handled it was all too clear when he spoke next, his voice coming through the headset like a finely honed razor's edge."Come on. We've got aliens to kill."
Wahiawa, Hawai'i
8/2/16 - 0840 Local Time
Shelly did her best to not be nervous but that was hard to do when everywhere she looked seven-foot-tall pink-skinned aliens were waving their plasma carbines around and growling at anyone they looked at.
There weren't many out in the open now that the Collective was beginning to station Muton patrols throughout the city, and those few brave souls that dared to step foot outside hurried about with all possible speed short of outright sprinting. More than one group was being escorted by an alien, and not all of them were untouched.
"Checkpoint up ahead. Three Mutons. One Vitakaraian." If David Miller was nervous about the aliens, he didn't show it. He had a measure of control and casualness to his voice that she simply didn't, and it was equal parts frustrating and inspiring. While it was clear that David understood the dangers, she couldn't help but feel that he wasn't afraid of them. In a combat situation, she might have called him crazy.
They waited until another group of people caught the attention of the Vitakara leader and they moved their patrol to question the unfortunate civilians. Three other groups had been stopped and questioned by those freaks. They still weren't sure what exactly the aliens were looking for, but Shelly knew that they were certainly looking for something or someone.
After the Collective surprise attack started, it quickly became apparent that the base was being overrun. UFOs flew throughout the midnight skies, clearing away any fighters that managed to scramble and ruthlessly bombing any caught unprepared on the ground.
The radios came back long enough for a call of retreat to be sounded before they went dark once more. Some had taken that as a sign that they should surrender and had been rounded up. Others, like Shelly and David, had taken that as a call to go underground.
They had spent much of that first day looking over one shoulder, expecting those robed Ethereals to come down on them like they had in Australia. Instead, they got an occupation force, but one that seemed to have several difficulties with the task. There was still clearly a gap in how the aliens intended to occupy the island and how they were actually occupying it. The weather and local wildlife was clearly something that was giving them a degree of trouble, and the sparse groupings of humans made patrols a lengthy endeavor.
It didn't take long for David to suggest organizing a resistance, instead of hiding out in his house, and Shelly did not require much convincing. She'd rather die than just surrender and accept the aliens as their new overlords. She had reservations about ADVENT, but at least they were human.
They stopped at an intersection and David quickly checked his phone. So far, the last two houses they had stopped by had been empty. Not nearly as many made it out like either one of them had hoped. Fortunately, neither had shown signs of attack or ransacking. They held out hope that perhaps there were still others out there.
After a quick walk down the street, they came to their last house to check. With a knock, Shelly and David waited and prayed at the door. After a few moments, just before David raised a fist to knock again, the door opened and a short Spanish-looking man quickly beckoned them in, alongside a taller Caucasian.
Just as the door shut, David wheeled on the two men with his sidearm, the gauss pistol gleaming murderously in the low light of the apartment. "Alright, who are you two and where is Fredrik Jones?"
The shorter man held his hands up in obvious surrender, with only mild alarm accenting his features. "Trooper Tier I Steven Gutierez, sir. That's Trooper Tier I Carl Northwood."
Shelly suppressed a wince; soldiers fresh out of boot camp weren't ideal at all. More often than not, they were still brash and prone to making mistakes in the name of valor and glory, still stuck in the mindset of the old world. But they were desperate, so they hardly had the luxury of choosing who to start their resistance with.
"Right. Sorry." David holstered the pistol with a nod. The other two visibly relaxed as he did so and led them into the kitchen. "Well, we're not in uniform. So for now, you can just call me David, and the stunning blonde to my left is Shelly." She shot him a withering glare that he pretended not to notice. "We have someone else back at our place, a communications analyst by the name of Keith. Where's Fredrik? Did anyone else make it out?
Steven nodded. "Sí. Some other Troopers, mostly Tier I like us. A few Tier II. And Fred."
"We were organizing a hiking trip," Carl said, almost startling Shelly with the reminder of his existence. He was so quiet and unassuming, he almost blended into the background. "Last chance for some R&R before the aliens showed up. Steven and I were gonna join up with them today since we had some PT to make up." It was only when he spoke that he seemed to come alive. Otherwise, he seemed content to stay out of the limelight and fade into the background.
"How fortunate for you guys," Shelly deadpanned before mentally chastising herself over the barb. With a breath, she unwound a little and tried to smile apologetically, though it felt brittle on her lips. "Sorry. Tense couple of days."
Steven gave an understanding nod and waved her off. Apparently having a gun in his face and being snapped at wasn't a big deal to the man. "Que nada! We've got more important mierda to worry about, like kicking these aliens off the island."
David gave the Hispanic man a firm nod of agreement. "Damn right. The first step to that is gonna be linking up with whoever made it off the base. We need to see who we have to work with. The next step will be an inventory check; figure out what we have and what we need."
Shelly looked at him and the two reached an unspoken agreement. She looked back at the other two men with a solemn expression "ADVENT is going to take the island back, and we're gonna give them the intel to do it. And if we can kill a few aliens in the meantime, all the better. But we have to do this smartly. We make the mistake of underestimating them, and we're all dead."
After the four of them all came to a consensus, David pulled a map out from inside of his jacket. "So you guys were going hiking, right? Any chance you guys packed some climbing gear?"
London, United Kingdom
8/3/16 - 2340 Local Time
"Anna, Reggie!"
Two cats appeared; one trim orange short-hair tabby zoomed into the room and began curling around his feet while a fat grey cat with a round head lazily strolled into the room and was content to simply sit in the doorway and stare.
"Oh, what a day…" Jude sighed exhaustedly. He meandered his way into the kitchen and put on a kettle of water to boil before setting himself to the task of feeding the two incessant cats. Anna, per her usual loving self, had jumped onto the countertop and was rubbing her head against him at every chance. Reggie simply sat by his bowl and starred.
Jude stared out the window in his kitchen and idly played at the spot on his left hand where a ring had been; at once a lifetime ago and not-at-all that long ago. Times like this, he felt Linda's absence more keenly. She always knew what to say to put his mind at ease. The split had been amicable and mutually agreed upon, but it had been a split nonetheless that had left him without any emotional support.
A soft purr and a furry tail against his nose caused Jude to smile and give the needy orange cat a few scritches behind the ear. They weren't the best conversational companions, but the cats helped keep him focused and attentive.
An inveterate workaholic, Jude sat down at the table with his cup of tea and opened the laptop. News stories heeded no schedule or care of time, and with an ongoing war with an alien empire, stories were evolving and happening at an ever-increasing rate. There simply wasn't time to disconnect.
The big story now was the Collective's invasion of the American West Coast. ADVENT was making it exceptionally difficult to get practically any information outside their borders. After more than forty-eight hours since the invasion began, only a handful of news points could be said with any respectable degree of certainty.
Hawaii was in Collective hands.
ADVENT had not enjoyed the level of success they had during the Japanese invasion.
A general withdrawal had been sounded from the California theater.
Fighting was ongoing in Washington and Oregon.
The trouble was that almost no information concerning the California theater could be found. Emails from colleagues and informants only produced ominous questions. At least two people had been detailed regarding the Californian question. Only one had been released and they hadn't talked afterward, about California or their detainment.
ADVENT's official stance to all inquiries had been 'When we are ready to release an update regarding the situation in the American West Coast, we will send a press release.' Which effectively meant that ADVENT was unwilling to cooperate with any outside - and internal - news networks.
Jude was musing these facts and events while alternating between the cats and the tea when an alert pinged in his inbox. It was an anonymous sender; something that would prompt most to immediately delete the email. However, the title was too tempting to dismiss outright: 'TheCaliforniaTruth;' not exactly an original name, but Jude had learned long ago that some individuals seemed to need melodrama to function. And if such melodrama was required to find new scoops on stories that could one day be looked on as the defining moment of a species, Jude would indulge them.
It took a moment to download the file from a third-party website. After loading it in a virtual machine, a trick he had learned from one of the young hotshots in the office to protect himself and his sources, Jude sat back and watched. At first, the British man thought the file was simply a family video on the streets of a random city. No distinct signs or monuments to pin it down to San Francisco or Los Angeles, let alone anywhere in California. However, two facts soon changed that belief.
The first was simple enough to notice. Gunshots could be heard in the background, distant but clear. Too deep to be normal gunfire, had to be gauss. The thunderous clap of tank fire and explosions were also audible. If nothing else, it was certainly authentic to the battlefield, but nothing groundbreaking. It went on like that for several minutes while the sounds of combat seemed to be moving towards him.
It was close enough that after another minute and what sounded like a building collapsing, a great deal of shaky running occurred before the video resumed in a nice hotel room. The San Francisco Public Library could be seen from the window as the video taker scanned around, confirming the location the video was filmed from, and locked in on a tank rolling backward down one road.
That a tank was rolling through downtown San Francisco, and without concern for collateral damage as it barreled over trash cans and knocked down guard rails, was alarming enough. What truly got Jude to sit up and pay close attention was the figure that ran, practically flew, into view.
It was easily taller than the tank, perhaps twelve or more feet tall. It wielded a massive sword of all things, and what happened next made Jude rewind and slow the video down several times. In seconds, the alien had cut the barrel off of the tank, severed the treads, somehow ripped the hatch off without ever touching it, and systematically executed the crew in midair with a swing of its sword.
It was on the seventh loop that Jude heard another ping. He took down one last note and closed the VM to look back at his inbox. And there, at the top of his email list, was a message that made his blood run cold.
Concerning 'TheCaliforniaTruth' video.
It was from an ADVENT official; the seal of their intelligence agency was clear and present over the email.
/ Good evening, Mr. Davies, /
/ ADVENT is aware that you have received a video that relates to the recent conflict in the Californian theatre and would appreciate your discretion regarding it. The uploader is a disgruntled former Officer who has since been detained and is the subject of an internal investigation. We regret that we were unable to prevent your involvement before receiving this video. /
/ We recognize that you are not a citizen of ADVENT, and operate outside of our jurisdiction. However, we would still request that you refrain from additional dissemination of these materials until we determine the appropriate public disclosure. As a journalist, you can appreciate the power of information, and we do not wish to find ourselves forced to contend with misinformation and panic, as well as the enduring alien threat. /
/ We appreciate your cooperation in this matter. /
/ With warm regards, /
/ Public Relations Handler Ayala Levine /
/ The Office of Information Control | ADVENT Intelligence /
Jude sat there numbly and read the email a second time. There were very big players involved with this now. Instead of having a news scoop, Jude was now under the ever-watchful eye of ADVENT - and judging from the prompt response, had been for some time. He downed the last of his tea, long cold, and mustered the only words he could to sum up his feelings.
"Bloody hell…"
Des Moines, Washington
8/7/16 - 1430 Local Time
"Incoming!"
George dove for cover, the flash of heat and light washing over him as he fell against the barricade. As the vestiges of the plasma explosion vanished from view, the man gulped for air and considered his fortunes. Barely an arm's length from him, the alloy-reinforced metal was warped and jagged from the plasma grenade that had narrowly missed ending his career and life.
Training took over before he even had time to think any further and two foolhardy Vitakarians went down to his gauss fire as he resumed defending the position. More had taken up positions opposite the ADVENT barricade, using the scorched shell of a building as cover while Andromedon engineers set up energy fields to reinforce their hold.
The worst of the fighting had died down more than three days past. Each side recognized their inability to score a decisive victory and, rather than continue to throw men into the grinder, had settled into an uneasy stalemate. Long hours of silence were broken up by the furious flashes of violence that broke out across the northern and southern borders of the city. The clashes were never long, but there was no shortage of casualties on either side.
George scanned the building and found another target to drop before he was forced down to avoid retaliatory fire. Beside him, another soldier hit the metal with a crack of armor and a cough of unsteady breath. All along ADVENT's defensive line, troops and officers were engaged in a mad struggle to repel this latest offensive. The Collective struck at random; sometimes they would hammer on the same point for hours and hours, while other times they probed only for minutes and then fell away.
Another explosion nearby was a sign that this time they were gonna push a little harder. Instead of simply taking up positions and firing potshots, Mutons and Vitakara alike were pushing forward, driving out defenders from their tenuously held cover. Where they couldn't be driven out through plasma fire alone, grenades were utilized to devastating effect. If the defenders weren't killed outright, the destruction of their cover left them exposed to overwhelming layers of enemy fire.
"To all ADVENT personnel along the southern Des Moines Defense Corridor, be advised; a large contingent of Mutons has been sighted on approach. ETA is six minutes." The crackle of the radio was a comforting presence on the battlefield, even as it heralded terrible news. It meant that ADVENT was still in the fight and had not yet consigned them all to death. George scowled and made several ineffectual shots as he mulled over his terrible pick in defensive positions. Any attempted retreat or reposition left him to run ten meters or more out in the open.
"Guess that just means we get all the fun." The other man turned his attention to George, his face obscured by the helmet but his grim amusement clear from his voice.
"I could stand a little less fun," George retorted with a surprising amount of good humor despite their impending deaths. That shot of levity broke the fugue hanging over the bunker. George stood and immediately downed two approaching Borelians before ducking once again.
"Alert. ADVENT missile strike is inbound. All units on or below 240th Street are advised to evacuate immediately. Danger close missile strike is incoming. Repeat; all units south of 240th street are advised to evacuate immediately." Once again the radio crackled, this time heralding some degree of good news. Although ADVENT had limited munitions and support options, a missile strike indicated that they still intended to fight and hold.
As George continued firing, safe in the knowledge that he was north of the designated kill zone, he took notice of a curious sound even as he wondered what kind of missile strike ADVENT had ordered. A sound like distant thunder began to build, slowly suffusing the air and growing in intensity until it became an almost deafening roar that made the Muton cries seem frail in comparison. The world flashed white just as George registered the sight of a trio of rockets screaming to earth and abruptly his hearing failed.
Then the explosions began.
The road ceased to exist as the first dozen rockets slammed into the asphalt and spit great geysers of rubble, fire, and bodies into the air. Buildings exploded in spectacular displays, some collapsing in on themselves while others were blown apart outright.
Whole flanks of the alien offensive disappeared as the missiles rained down along their line. Mutons were not particularly adept to begin with, and the roar of the explosions only served to further sow confusion in their ranks. Enterprising soldiers along the ADVENT line took the time to redeploy and began firing on any targets left out in the open. The dying weren't left to chance, and the wounded were put down indiscriminately.
The last rockets fell and as their explosions dimmed, an eerie silence descended over the battlefield. As the winds broke the cover of smoke, all that could be seen was the pot-marked shell of what had once been a road and a thriving community. Where explosions had not obliterated everything, fires raged and consumed bodies and ruins in equal measure. There were no signs of life or movement left that George could see of the alien menace. "God Almighty…," he murmured, struck by an odd mixture of awe and terror. At least for a while longer, he would live.
Until the next attack came.
Waialua, Hawai'i
8/9/16 - 1905 Local Time
Shelly did her best to suppress a groan of frustration as she stood at the table next to David. They had managed to gather a dozen other ADVENT soldiers together for this meeting. It had been intended to get started on planning their resistance. Instead, it almost immediately devolved into arguments of varying import.
"How the hell do we bring down a real goddamn UFO? No heavy ordinance to speak of-"
"Those marble-eyed freaks don't make it easy to get between towns with our weapons now. You think they'd do any better with us parading through town with missile launchers on our backs?"
"Yeah well, maybe you can make sure to ask them to kindly fuck off next time you see 'em, see how that wo-."
"Enough." David snapped, cutting the testosterone-fueled spa short. Absent any official chain of command, he had emerged as the clear resistance lead given his force of personality. "The city is occupied, no getting around that for the time being. And we're not gonna throw these bastards off the islands overnight. Instead, let's focus on the here and now." He turned to Shelly and raised an eyebrow. "Who all do we have?"
"Aside from those assembled, twenty-seven Tier I troopers, twenty Tier II, and eight Tier III troopers are confirmed as having escaped the base's destruction so far and are fit for duty," Shelly reported dutifully after wiping a stray blonde bang out of her sight. "We have almost a dozen more leads on possible survivor groups but between the Ewa Forest Reserve to the east, and the Waianae Kai Forest Reserve to the west… There's a lot of hiding spots out there."
"Keeps the Collective from finding us too. We'll make it work. How are we doing on gear?"
"Not so fortunate there. Those that were patrolling or near arms lockers got out with their combat gear. A lot of guys were caught in their bunks on the base or out doing other things. We've got the rifles and ammo to fit… two squads, maybe three. No significant explosive munitions or medical supplies to speak of; some AP grenades and a few field medkits."
As David began to inquire further the room shook violently as a thunderous sonic boom rattled the building, several bottles and books falling to the floor heralded by a second sonic boom. Shelly was the second one out the door, just after David, while most of the other assembled men and women gawked and froze.
In the distance, one of the Collective's UFOs wobbled ominously in the air. Even from this distance, the smoke and damage to it were plain to see. Several smaller explosions caused it to shudder before listing; first to the east, before it pulled up and hung perfectly still in the air… and then it arced slowly around to the west and picked up speed before it crashed against the beach.
Immediately David pointed to two of the men assembled as more began to stream out. "Get the guns out. Steven, Carl; get armed and meet up with me and Shelly! The rest of you, I need distractions. Keep the patrols away from the crash site while we take what we can." Orders given, he turned and stormed towards the beach with Shelly in tow.
"What the hell do you think we'll find when we get there?" Shelly asked with a small amount of concern in her voice. They had survived on the run so long because of their methodical planning. This was the exact opposite of that.
"If we're really lucky, a bunch of dead aliens and some weapons we can salvage," David said with a rictus grin.
The sun had finally disappeared below the horizon, darkness beginning to swallow the sky. Flames were dancing on the beach where parts of the alien spacecraft had broken off. Several large chunks of alien alloys had broken off and jutted up from the sand while the majority of the ship was resting in the water.
"I don't see any survivors."
"With the bulk of the Collective in Honolulu, we should have time to do a quick search." David turned as the other two men arrived and handed off a rifle to him and Shelly before assuming an at-attention stance. David stared at them for a moment before launching into an ad-hoc mission brief. "We don't have much time. Either Collective forces on the island will converge on this site, or forces from Honolulu will. Any weapons, grenades, intel we can find; bag it and run it back to the base. The second they send another UFO out to check on this, we're gone. Any Collective forces show up, we're gone. We're not looking for a fight. Not yet. Clear?"
For once, the alien occupation was a thing of beautiful serendipity; people weren't keen on relaxing out in public when aliens were patrolling the city. Had this happened at any other time, the crash site might have been overrun with curious onlookers and looters. Instead, as Shelly hit the sandy beach, the only noteworthy detail was the almost labored whine of alien technology that filled the air around the UFO.
"Yes sir," the two Tier I troopers snapped off with identical salutes.
Shelly gave a faint chuckle and an almost imperceptible shake of her head, before saying sotto voce, "So boot…" Finally, she looked at David and gave him a clear, affirmative nod.
She took the first step, hurrying along the sands to huddle next to a warped piece of hull. Leveling the rifle over the top to scan the area once more, she threw a hand up and signaled the all-clear. David, Steven, and Carl all immediately jumped into action and took up similar positions along the beach.
After counting to thirty in her head, Shelly took another cautious advance; this time, she paused with her back pressed against the UFO's hull. There was a noticeable vibration that ran through the whole thing that set her teeth on edge. After another moment, the other three formed up beside her.
"What do you think, Shelly?" David's voice was so quiet in her ear, it was almost unintelligible next to the thrumming wreckage.
"I think this is really, really stupid," she murmured back before giving an abrupt slap to the shimmering field. Just like the training manuals had reported, that simple touch was enough to cause the forcefield to recoil like a bubble popping in slow motion. Immediately, more smoke began to billow out of the interior of the UFO and sparking could be heard even from their position outside.
"Breach in three. Shelly and I cover the right flank, Steven and Carl the left." Three nods of acknowledgment began the silent countdown on one hand.
In well-drilled precision, all four stormed the UFO with rifles trained and ready to down any hostiles. Instead, they had nothing to shoot at as it was immediately apparent that there were no Sectoids left alive. Mostly there were greasy, orange smears against walls or consoles, but one looked enough like a still-intact Sectoid to make identifying the smears easy work.
"Looks like there was some kind of damage or malfunction with their inertial dampeners. Probably from whatever damaged the UFO in the first place," David said aloud as they fanned out and began to ensure no ugly surprises were waiting for them. "Probably all went splat when this thing crashed into the ground."
"Shame. I was looking forward to killing a few damn Greys as payback."
"There will be more, Steven. Count on that." David chuckled mirthlessly as he began to move around the room. Shards of orange crystals crunched under boot, and more than once he had to duck under a sheet of metal that had been forced down by protrusions of structural beams or explosive capacitor discharges.
Carl and Steven began collecting what they could from the corpses while David stepped up beside Shelly at one of the only remaining terminals that still had power. Most of the computers onboard had large cracks through them, some with wires or bits of metal jutting out in a manner they were obviously not designed to. She seemed oddly enraptured by the blinking lights of the terminal, one hand hovering over it absentmindedly.
"Make heads or tails of this?" He asked, equal parts curious and concerned with the degree to which Shelly was focused on the console. Normally Shelly was the type to not get overly engrossed in a topic or item of interest, but now she seemed almost entranced by the console and its lights.
"I'm not sure…" There was an airy, almost breathless tinge to her voice as she spoke, although her eyes never left the computer. Her hand wavered above one of the holograms and seemed to be rolling through some unseen list with her hand.
"Real helpful, that." Despite the seriousness of the situation and the surely imminent arrival of alien reinforcements, David could not help but deadpan at the woman.
"Well it's not like ADVENT was offering Alien Languages 101 as part of their training package," Shelly finally snapped out of her fugue, though there was an unmistakable smirk hidden in her words. Finally free of whatever spell had taken her, she began to more animatedly work at the console, testing its operations as best she could.
"Besides, I said I'm not sure because… I have this weird feeling in the back of my head that this-" She tapped at a flickering icon and suddenly something activated as part of the console seemed to shimmer and change, signifying something.
"What's that?" Unabashed curiosity laced his voice as David leaned over her shoulder to more closely inspect the hologram.
Shelly stared at the hologram, eyes unfocused before clarity slid over her features like ice water and she tightened her grip on her rifle. "I think… that's an incoming alien UFO."
Alarm bells began to wail inside David's head hearing her speak, the faint current of absolute certainty cutting through her every word. "What makes you say that?"
She wheeled about on him, snapping and nearly hysteric. "I don't know, okay? All I know is that when I look at this icon here… I think 'Collective spacecraft'. And this one here…," she pointed back towards the center of the map, wrestling back some degree of composure as she spoke... "This one makes me think… Us. Here. Taken together, it looks like a Collective craft is approaching our location."
He stared at her, studying her features with an intense degree of scrutiny but seeming to accept her stance all at once with a half-hearted shrug. "Alright then, Shelly. Any other brilliant insights into this alien technology?"
"Yeah, you ass," she muttered as she pushed past him in a familiar, not-unfriendly manner. "We have about six minutes before it gets here. So whatever else we intend on doing, we need to do it fast." She paused as she crossed under a broken power conduit and turned to look back at him, a small grin working its way out despite the dangers. "Unless you suddenly think you can take out a UFO with what you have now."
The Citadel, Situation Room
8/11/16 - 1304 Local Time
The atmosphere within the Situation Room was dour. For almost two weeks, they had scrambled to put together projections on enemy movements, where they would reinforce, what their next move would be. More and more reports were compiled, distributed, and processed, and the emerging picture was a grim one.
Roughly two-thirds of the Western American Seaboard was now under the control of the Collective. All of California had been lost following the retreat from Los Angeles and the near-total annihilation of ADVENT's troops in San Francisco. It had not taken long for the aliens to consolidate their landing zones and push out. Sacramento, Fresno, San Diego; all of them were under attack within twenty-four hours and declared lost within forty-eight.
It was interesting that the Battlemaster was not seen again, not after his dramatic and total routing of San Francisco. Some were speculating that such movements were an extreme toll, others foolishly put forth the notion that their weapons had done something to the Battlemaster. Whatever the reason, it was agreed upon that it was only positive that the Battlemaster was not still roaming the battlefield.
North of California, things had fared somewhat better. Portland had been their one clear victory, and Seattle had held, if only just. Analysts rapidly began discussing ammunition and medical supply consumption rates, attempting to discern how long Seattle could hold out. The numbers were bleak, but not unworkable. The greater part of the Seattle metropolitan area was still under ADVENT control, but the Collective was pushing further afield; if nothing changed, they would have Seattle encircled within a week.
General Hachette had assembled several staff members to consult with and come up with some manner of solution. Most of the marshals had in turn put the question before their own staff. As a result, the six marshals were each flanked by two colonels while a third sat at the table with them. Most of them looked stressed, a few concerned, and one out-right enraged as the suggestions turned abruptly to foolhardy plans of action.
Kwon Seul-Gi kept her face under tight control, fighting back the urge to say something impolite or unwise. Instead, she forced herself to speak evenly, with the exact degree of respect warranted. "General, I must object. If we do this-"
"What you must do, Colonel Seul-Gi, is get it through your head that you are not in charge of the city's defenses. I am, and I will not be lectured on the finer points of protecting an American city by someone like you." Owen Hachette was red in the face by the end of his tirade, only barely managing to keep himself from going hoarse. He had taken to shouting at her more than once during this meeting, clearly finding her presence distasteful.
He seemed to sway for a moment as if to launch into another rant before a whisper from one of his aides made him spin and march off without another word. The room was deathly silent following his exit, each of them looking around at the others with uncertainty, regret, and dissatisfaction etched over their features before one by one, they began to rise and file out.
Kwon stood there for a long minute, staring at the space where the General had been. She considered her options for a long while before being snapped out of the state by her own aide, Corporal Remmi. The young brunette woman had been invaluable in helping Kwon endure the infuriating tendencies of the General, and she was proving her value once more as she wordlessly encouraged the North Korean woman to join her in leaving the Situation Room. Marshal Williams gave Kwon a sympathetic smile and followed two other Marshals, leaving the two women to their own devices.
As the meeting had been called with little warning, there had been no time to eat prior. With no further obligations taking their immediate attention, the women worked their way towards the Mess Hall. They picked out an assortment of food before retreating to one of the quieter corners to discuss matters. For a while, they simply ate in silence and considered the recent events. Finally, however, the younger woman broke. "Alright, ignoring that jackass for a minute… Let's pretend that I'm in charge and that I just asked you to break down the situation for me. Why is an offensive a bad idea right now? Between our garrisons in Seattle and Portland, and our one in reserve in Kennewick, there's no reason we can't catch them in a vice and break their position."
Kwon gave Corporal Remmi a cool stare, her lips pressed thinly in apparent disapproval. Before the younger woman could break under such an intense gaze, she gave a resigned sigh and set her fork down. "Very well. First, we break down the strategic concerns," The North Korean woman fell into an instructor's voice as she continued. "In the time since the Collective began their invasion, they have effectively secured the airspace above their footholds. We have no existing infrastructure in place within their occupied territories or near their borders to dispute their control of the skies. Their aircraft are superior to ours in every way. Only XCOM possesses an air force that can contest the airspace. Our own aircraft are simply too inferior to contest in limited numbers."
"Beyond that, we have the topography to consider." She began to draw an invisible map on the table between them to illustrate her point, carefully using the trays and utensils as visual aids. "To the west, the Pacific Ocean. To the east, the Cascades. This means that combined with the Collective's stated control over the airspace dictates an offensive uses a direct, land-based approach."
"With the ocean and mountains confining our avenues between the two cities, the number of ways we can march are limited. Unfortunately, the many wildlife refuges and national forests in the area mean those troop movements are further constrained, while enemy ambush opportunities increase exponentially the further from the cities we move.
"Why not push for a naval approach then?" There was an earnestness to the Corporal's features that was almost painful as she asked, "Marshal Gardinier suggested it earlier. Surely we could put together a fleet that could punch through any resistance?"
"It would be isolated and easy to track." Kwon immediately dismissed the notion with a sharp shake of her head. "With the Collective controlling both the local air space and the orbital space, they could freely fire upon the ships with little fear of retaliation or failure. Our ships would be helpless once out at sea. Even if we had such a fleet available to push through their air superiority, their orbital ships could open fire with impunity and no concern for collateral."
"The Cascades will prevent any reinforcements from the east, and it will take too long to move the reserve garrison into position to join the battle. Besides that fact, the Kennewick garrison is vital to ensuring the northwestern theater remains open to resupply. Using it to retake Seattle will do us no good in the Collective then moves in and seizes Kennewick and Spokane because we were out of position."
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them before the Corporal spoke, a brittle quality creeping into her voice as she did. "So what you're saying, in summary, is that only one garrison can afford to march right now. The Collective will know they're moving, will know exactly where they'll move, and will be able to prepare numerous traps for us."
Kwon stared at the other woman for a minute and gave a small, reluctant nod of her head. "It will be a bloodbath. Everyone will die, and it will have been completely our fault to stop it."
Longview, Washington
8/11/16 - 0715 Local Time
Silence clung to the air, smothering the men of the Portland Garrison as much as the thick fog obscured the terrain around them. It had been decided by General Hachette to use the fog as cover to obscure their movements and prevent any aerial bombardment. Combined with a deployment before sunrise, the Garrison had made good time in their deployment towards Seattle without seeing a single Collective soldier. Most of the men thought they were getting lucky and that they'd make it to Seattle without issue. Martin felt differently.
"I'm telling you, this is too easy." He sat across from the rest of his squad as their vehicle hurried down the road, one of literally thousands. Many of them were military vehicles, Humvees that ADVENT had assigned as part of the garrison. But when planning for their deployment, no one had thought of needing to transport the entire garrison at once, and so while the ends of the convoy were military vehicles, the bulk of the middle were volunteered and commandeered civilian vehicles.
"Shit, I hope it's this easy. I mean, do you wanna be wrong about this?" The lone woman in the squad, a Brazillian woman named Daiane, gave a disbelieving snort at the idea and adjusted the gauss rifle across her lap.
"Fuck no," Martin retorted vehemently. "But like… You guys agree, right? It feels like we should be way more armored than this. Hell, most of the vehicles in the convoy aren't even armed. What do we do if shit goes sideways?"
One of the younger troopers shook his head with a cocky grin. "No way does that happen. The Collective won't even know we're moving until we're on the outskirts of Tacoma. By then it'll be too late and they get their shit kicked in."
"I'm just saying, this feels like-"
Three UFOs streaked across the sky, tearing overhead with only a few hundred feet of clearance over the ground. As they passed, the ground began to erupt in great gouts of plasma. Dirt, asphalt, and twisted metal rained down all around them while a trio of sonic booms rattled the vehicle. Martin clutched his rifle as the Humvee screeched and skidded to a jolting halt.
Trained instinct saw him dive out of the vehicle and take up a defensive position against it. All around, the other members of the garrison were having similar reactions. In the distance, Martin felt his heart plummet when he saw dozens of explosions rip across the forward elements of the convoy, and then only heartbeats later heard a calamitous noise that signaled the rear of the convoy being similarly bombarded. Those sights sent ice down his spine, along with a deeply unsettling truth.
They were trapped now.
The treeline suddenly erupted in an outpouring of Mutons; hundreds of them charged out from their obscured positions within the trees to rush at the stricken convoy. Their bloodlust, their frenzied roars, was such that some soldiers broke. They dropped their weapons and fled, only to be cut down by an unceasing torrent of plasma.
Still, other elements within the convoy attempted to rally. Chants of 'hold the line' went up and down the stricken convoy, and Martin himself felt a powerful urge to lash out at the Collective rather than immediately flee. How much more would ADVENT take from the Collective? How much more would the aliens steal from them before it would be too much?
Such concerns were for later after the fighting was done. More of ADVENT's training kicked in and Martin reached down for a grenade and lobbed it over the top of the Humvee. There were so many Mutons on the field now, such a target-rich environment, that he didn't need to bother with aim at all. It exploded and sent more than a dozen Mutons crashing to the ground in various states of injury; some lethal, most not.
Martin wasn't sure how long the fighting lasted. It felt like hours but was probably far less. The UFOs streaking overhead were a near-constant onslaught, strafing the places along the convoy where resistance began to organize. Andromedons were beginning to march from the treelines now, mechanized suits spewing acid across the battlefield. There were clear ADVENT targets that found themselves doused with the foul-smelling substance, but even Mutons weren't spared from being caught in the barrage.
"Rocket out!" The warning call was nearly drowned out by the roar of two rockets streaking into the Andromedon line. Their suits were well-suited for the sort of chemical warfare they raged, but they blew apart all the same from the twin EM-44 Firefly rockets that detonated, their payloads mixing with the Andromedon technology for devastating effect.
Martin immediately spotted the opening left in the aftermath of the explosion and toggled his radio. He kept his voice even "Kieran, Belanger. I got an idea. You see that detonation?"
"Copy." The voice that responded was gruff and clearly strained. No gunfire or shouts could be heard over it. "What are you thinking?"
Martin drilled a charging Muton in one knee, sending the enraged beast to the ground before its head split apart in a bloody mess under another gauss burst. "I'm thinking if we want to make a break for it, that's our best shot."
There was a response right away, only more Mutons to be put down. The other members of his squad were putting as many gauss rounds down range as they could, but it was becoming clear that there were too many Mutons. Already their roars could be heard moving through the lines of the convoy, screams, and impacts audible from far too close. If nothing changed, they would be overrun.
"All squads, new orders. Break through enemy formations and seek ADVENT-controlled territory. Squad leaders will designate rendezvous coordinates."
Martin paused in his shooting as the squad leader hit the side of the truck, his armor denting the panels with the impact. He looked at Martin, a grin evident beneath the edge of the helmet. He raised one hand to the side of his helmet before speaking into the radio while signaling for Martin to cover him. "You heard the lady. Punch through. Morales, start on those coordinates."
Other members of the squad fought their way to Martin's position, clearly summoned on private comms. "Alright, here's the plan. We break through to the east then head north-northeast. Make for Toutle. Belanger, Horn; prep a couple of Fireflies. On my command, we blow a hole and run like hell, and we don't stop till I can't hear those bastards anymore. "
There wasn't time to think beyond instinct, and Martin could tell that none of them could think of anything more to add to the plan. It was reckless and likely to get them all killed. But, as Martin hefted the rocket launcher into position and sighted a trio of Andromedons, he could not help but grin faintly. As the rocket exploded and sent the aliens to the ground in pieces, Martin knew which choice he'd take between certain death and only probable death.
The Citadel, Situation Room
8/13/16 - 1050 Local Time
"Colonel Seul-Gi, please report to the Situation Room. Colonel Seul-Gi to the Situation Room."
Kwon looked up from her reading and allowed herself the luxury of a weary sigh. This would be her fifth trip in half as many days. Her open defiance, in Hachette's eyes, during the planning of the disastrous offensive that had cost ADVENT an estimated ten thousand soldiers, to say nothing of the lost materials and equipment, had cemented her as the point-of-failure in his mind.
Each of the trips prior had consisted of a great deal of screaming and belittling, as well impressive mental gymnastics on his part to conclude that the only one to offer significant resistance to the operation was at fault for its failure. In truth, it did not bother her overly much; such displays of ego and attacks on her competence were nothing new. Kwon's annoyance came from the fact that she was losing the trust and confidence of the other Colonels and Marshals, and that made her job much harder.
Icy apprehension ran through her nerves as she turned the corner and saw two Lancers flanking the door to the Situation Room. Their presence alone was unsettling; the only time Lancers or Peacekeepers were positioned such was either the security of someone or the arrest of someone. What added to the apprehensive feeling working through her skin was the sash placed over their chest. Every member of the military and the government had the meaning of such a sash hammered into their head.
Anyone bearing that sash was acting under the orders of the Oversight Division.
Putting aside her nerves, Kwon continued and passed the flanking soldiers with no outward sign of recognition of her presence. It meant nothing, ADVENT training was too strict to allow such betrayals of intent when the Oversight Division was working, but she took it to heart nonetheless. Perhaps imminent arrest was not waiting for her through the door.
Inside were four individuals, three of whom were discussing something near the computer terminal near the dominating view screen. However the room's atmosphere was easily dominated by the lone woman sitting at the table, her attention taken by a collection of tablets in front of her.
Her slim features and platinum blonde hair did nothing to diminish the sheer threat of her position. There was a thin, humorless smile set on her lips, the only hint she gave to speak of her thoughts or profession. She did not deign to notice the arrival of the North Korean woman for several minutes, yet when she did there was no apparent hostility in her eyes.
There was a faint trace of a French accent to her words, a delicateness that was entirely at odds with her occupation. "I am Investigator Ines of the Oversight Division. Allow me to put your concerns to rest; you have not been summoned here to be arrested, Colonel."
Relief flooded over Kwon as she involuntarily relaxed, letting the tension she had been holding onto wash away in a gesture of deep-seated solace that she might have tried to hide in any other circumstance. The idea that her life, her very career, was in question had shaken her deeply, but Kwon dutifully composed herself and returned to attention. In a rare moment of understatement, Kwon replied, "I am grateful that I am not being detained. However, if that is not to be, then I am uncertain as to why I have been summoned."
The French woman gave a satisfied nod and rose from her seat. "I should hope not, else I would have to find the source of the leak and correct it." The mellifluous quality of her voice did nothing to blunt the obvious meaning behind what she said, nor did the gauss pistol at her hip, but neither woman gave it any further mind.
"Rather, you have been called here to answer a few lingering questions I have." She began to walk around the table, her gaze never leaving Kwon's own. Stopping just in front of her, the height disparity between them was pronounced. Kwon had always known she was taller than normal for a Korean woman, but that unusual height was magnified by the French women's own short stature. Yet even with such disparity, there could be no question who held the power in the room.
"General Owen Hachette was removed from power earlier this morning, following the conclusion of my investigation." The news of that struck home and Kwon blinked in shock, but Innes continued. "Suffice to say, his leadership and tactical acumen have been called into question and he has been found wanting. He will be replaced, and ADVENT will be made stronger for it."
As she said that, Kwon was left to ponder what things would be like now that such a loathsome leader such as Hachette was now out of the picture. It would certainly make her own job easier to perform, and perhaps they would make headway into breaking Collective lines. She did not have long to contemplate such a future however as she became acutely aware of a very intense stare from Ines that forced her attention back to the French woman.
Satisfied that she once again held Kwon's attention, Ines reached down to pick up one tablet and gave it a few taps. Without glancing up, she spoke again. "Now then, let's move on to your failings in this mess."
Kwon's jaw went slack in surprise and she failed to stop herself from asking incredulously, "My failings?"
"Yes." Ines finally looked up and gave a piercing stare up at her. "Your failings. According to our investigation, former General Hachette expressed, quote, open hostility towards Colonel Seul-Gi and all of her attempts at contribution, end quote." After finishing the quote, she looked up from the tablet and fixed the North Korean woman with an even stare before she began to slowly circle the other woman.
"Over the last month, we have testimonies that say that on no less than nine separate occasions your assessments were summarily dismissed, with no satisfactory reason given beyond who gave the assessment. When similar concerns were raised later on by other subordinates of Hachette's, the details were noted and the people praised for their diligence"
The Investigator paused just out of Kwon's line of sight, a note of curiosity creeping into her voice. "And yet, you never reported the incidents to the Oversight Division. Why?"
Kwon stood a little taller, turning her chin upward a fraction of an inch. It was a well-practiced stance, one that used her stature to full effect. "Men like him are threatened by me. It is nothing I am not used to handling myself. I do not need help dealing with such men."
Ines' stare turned frosty as she crept back into view and a very unfriendly smile grew over her features. "And those are the failings I was referring to. We are not the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, Colonel Seul-Gi. We do things differently here. And that means incompetence and petty disrespect, at any level, will not be tolerated. Had you reported these incidents to the Oversight Division, we could have launched an investigation much sooner." The corners of her smile turned upwards just a fraction more. "Perhaps even in time to stop him from launching this ill-advised and wasteful attack, saving us hundreds of lives to fight another day."
That brutal truth rang home and Kwon felt her own composure crack. Left with such a prospect, such a poisonous thought, she could not help but begin to play that exact possibility over in her head. Had Hachette listened to her, she would not have pushed from Portland, but rather from the reserve garrison's position in Kennewick. It would have easily avoided the many traps and failings of Owen's push. All those soldiers, dead for her pride...
Ines returned to the head of the table and briefly picked up a tablet, this one different from the others. It was thinner and a matte-black with the emblem of the Oversight Division across the back. Kwon noted that a light appeared over one corner with a thumb press as Ines looked up at her. "As of right now, Kwon Seul-Gi, it is the opinion of this Investigator that while you failed to raise concerns regarding former General Owen Hachette's competence and fitness to lead to the attention of the Oversight Division, and inadvertently contributed to the wasted expenditure of ADVENT soldiers and resources, mitigating circumstances exist, due to the actions and hostility of former General Hachette and your country of origin, which absolve you of responsibility…. This time."
A pause. "Furthermore, in light of your competent, diligent, and overall composed performance despite hostile leadership and subversive attempts at quelling your contributions, it is this Investigator's opinion that you be granted the rank of Chief Marshal immediately following the conclusion of this investigation."
Kwon said nothing, her mouth agape and rooted to the floor in utter surprise, as Ines deactivated the tablet and set it down on the table. As the tablet deactivated, so too did some part of Ines' position as Oversight Investigator. She relaxed her posture and allowed herself the informal stance of sitting on one corner of the table. When she looked back at Kwon, her expression was considerably more friendly.
"Obviously I don't have the personal authority to actually promote you immediately, but…" Ines sighed and brushed a bang from her face, and for a moment it was impossible to reconcile the vulnerable woman in front of her and the brutal Investigator that had circled her just moments earlier.
"Look, you're clearly a talented woman capable of low and high-level strategic thinking. You have correctly identified flaws in plans and tactics set before you, while simultaneously offering viable alternatives and considerations to make sound judgments. Frankly, if you were from any other country then we wouldn't be having this discussion. Your talents are wasted at this level. ADVENT needs more from you."
Waialua, Hawai'i
8/20/16 - 2250 Local Time
There was a soft knock at the door, which only elicited a groan from Shelly as she picked her head up off of the desk. After a moment of waiting, the door cracked open and David stepped inside the room. From the lack of light following him in, it must have been night already, the windows long covered to keep any sunlight out. "How's the headache?"
"Better, thanks," Shelly said with more vitality than she felt. "The tea helped." In truth, it had done little to ameliorate the migraine that had plagued her for a week now. Sleep had been next to impossible. Her only saving grace had been the lull between migraines, and David's presence. If the migraines were a storm battering her sanity, his presence was like a warm fire that helped to get her through the night.
"So what's next? She appreciated that he did his best to keep his voice down, but even a whisper was enough to set her teeth on edge and her skull throbbing angrily. Still, there were important things to discuss.
"Well, we're not dead yet. But even with the men we've gathered, we're not taking back this island, let alone the whole chain, by ourselves. We have to start considering how to get a message out to ADVENT." She let out a sigh as she sat up fully and rubbed at her eyes, ineffectually trying to soothe the angry nerves behind her eyes.
"I'm going to assume you have more planned than us sending ADVENT an email saying 'Come help us kick the Collective in the dick.'"
Shelly gave a weak laugh, shaking her head ever so slightly despite the pain. His humor, as always, was awful but appreciated. "Not unless you want to wake up to a bunch of Mutons about to blow your head off. It would have to be some kind of secure transmission, preferably an encrypted line. Unfortunately, ADVENT cut off the island from the network just about as totally as they could without cutting the hardlines."
He began to pace around the room, hands clasped behind his back while he thought aloud. "Well, that rules out basically the whole of civilian communications. The Collective surely has eyes on all the mass means of communication; email, phone service, radio."
With a great deal of effort, Shelly stood up and stretched to try and relieve other bodily tension and clear her mind. There was a brief moment of pain that spiked behind her eyes, a sudden build of pressure that seemed to drown out reality. As abruptly as it came on, it vanished in a wave of relief. Almost without even being aware she was speaking, Shelly glanced over and sighed. "We can skip past the obvious, David. You want to hit the base."
Surprise was clear across David's features as he stopped and stared at her. After a moment of confusion, he gave an uncharacteristically timid nod."... Yeah, actually. How'd you guess?"
"You mean besides the fact that we'd need military-grade encryption for this to work?" She felt the reasons for her zeroing in on his plan self-evident, and thus pushed on. "Well, that means we have to sneak back onto a military base designed to be approached from only one of two avenues, that is overrun with hostile agents, and whose every design point makes sneaking around the place a near impossibility."
"I mean, we already got off the base once, we've been chased for a few weeks by the Collective, unsuccessfully on their part I might add, and we even got to that crash site before them. What's one more impossible thing? "
Silence lapsed between them as they both were left to consider their options. Shelly still thought about the people that had been whisked away by Collective soldiers in the night, their screams still echoing in her memories. The idea of being stolen away by aliens to be vivisected or tortured until her death was not on her list of things to do.
"... Why not NCTAMS?" She ventured to ask after a moment, already a sly smile beginning to play over her features as the idea began to blossom in her head.
David stared at her blankly, considering her proposal for a second before he sighed. "Pretend for a minute, Shelly, that I just blow things up and shoot my rifle and don't know anything about communications tech-"
Shelly rolled her eyes and cut him off. "NCTAMS PAC. Keith mentioned it earlier. It's the naval communications hub station for the Pacific for the United States military. ADVENT won't have been able to sever its line to the continental US without crippling its ability to communicate out here. If we can get inside, Keith can use the computers inside to get a message out to ADVENT."
"Won't they have tightened the security around it, made it impossible to do anything like that?" David asked, skeptically.
"It wasn't redesigned and fortified like the base was by ADVENT. It's not gonna be easy to get into it, but it'll be significantly easier to infiltrate than a Collective-occupied base designed by ADVENT."
He nodded in understanding as she spoke, pulling some paper out of the nightstand and began to scribble on it. "Alright, it's a start. Do we know anything else about it? If the Collective has control of it, won't ADVENT have cut it off?"
Shelly shook her head and winced for the effort. The headache was starting to build again, a powerful pressure behind her eyes and ears that threatened to drown out the world. "Because of how the US designed it and all the other communications integrated into the system, if they cut it off from the mainland they'd be making themselves blind in this theater. If ADVENT has any plans to retake the islands, they'll want NCTAMS to be operational. That's our ticket."
"Okay, so how do we do it? I can't imagine the Collective isn't monitoring communications leaving the island," David said as he frowned. "If we just send an email to ADVENT saying 'We're here', I bet the Collective would kick down our door within the hour."
She could not help but give a pained whimper in response, pinching the bridge of her nose. How she wished Keith or someone else could be there and explain it. Instead, she took a minute and breathed steadily through her nose till the pressure seemed to die down a bit. Opening her eyes, she saw concern etched in David's eyes. Before he could speak, she waved him off. "I'm fine, I-"
There was a knock at the door that made them both jump. Images of Mutons suddenly barging in flashed across her mind but felt absurd when the narrow, glasses-framed face of Keith peered inside. For a heartbeat, he looked as perplexed as the other two did. "Hey…. I uh… figured that I'd check-in and… see how you guys were…"
It wasn't hard to notice the uncertainty in his words, but Shelly didn't have the will to care. "David here was asking about NCTAMS. Why don't you take him and give him a crash course on the facility and its design, since I think he has plans for it." Her voice was brittle and nearly hoarse as she finished speaking. One last shot of cold tea to soothe her throat and Shelly rolled onto the cot beside the desk to get some rest. The two men turned and left her in the darkness. They hadn't even closed the door before Shelly was asleep.
The Pantheon
Leo Booker - ARES, Dynamo, Tactical Squad Commander
Arend Veldpape - NIKE, Aegii, Tactical Squad Commander
Irisha Artamonova - ZEUS, Dynamo, Elite Dynamo Psion
Konstantin Matveyev - HESTIA, Aegii, Elite Aegii Psion
To Be Continued
Chapter 3 - Sacrifice